The Original Fire
by Farfromfearless
Summary: Formerly 'Kratos' Childhood.' Yes, I got the name from the Audioslave song, because it seemed to fit with my plot. The story of the Ancient Heros. Rated T for violence and possible sexual themes later on.
1. Mama

**Whoo, another bad story. This should be better than my Kranna love story. I can't do romance too well. Too bad. So, anyway, please review, or I'm not going to continue this for very long. **

**A/N UPDATE: I revised this to take care of a plot error. It kind of...messed up the story. A lot. SORRY!**

* * *

Everyone in Folia knew her. She was beautiful, graceful, and compassionate; the epitome of perfection. All the women envied her, and all the men ogled her. She had gorgeous silky black hair that reached down her back, and light blue eyes that mirrored whatever she saw. She always had a smile on her beautiful face, which went well with her seldom-heard voice. She enticed people with a sort of silent charm.

Everyone in Folia also knew her son. He, too, had that silent charm, that strange beauty, that grace. While they were equal in manner, however, they were opposites in physical looks. The boy rarely smiled unless he was trying to charm someone into helping him. His hair hung in crimson spikes over his face. But his eyes were what scared both children and adults, making him too strange to be accepted by the people. His eyes were chestnut brown, but they had a hint of red to them, the same as his hair. If he looked directly at a person, they had the impression of being examined by a higher being.

Yes, everyone in Folia knew Lacey and Kratos Aurion.

Rumors were rampant about the pair. The implications that she had left her husband, that he was nothing more than the punishment for her wrongdoing. She had shown up in the village carrying the baby boy in her arms, with no one else. Any visitor knew they didn't belong. Almost everyone in Folia had blonde or brown hair; they clearly looked nothing like the rest of the townsfolk.

Kratos had no friends at his simple elementary school. He was lessons ahead of the rest of his age group, inviting ridicule from other children. However, when punches flew, even if his foe was older, Kratos came out the winner; thus, no one got into physical fights with him.

Lacey ran an inn to keep the tiny family fed and clothed. Her son helped to keep the records straight, despite the fact that most children his age went out to play in the snow after school hours.

The two lived quietly in the background, always a topic of wonder for the villagers, until Kratos' twelfth birthday. The boy never had a 'normal' party. The only thing different about it than any other day was that Kratos wouldn't show up at school and his mother had one of her maids run the inn for the rest of the day. They would disappear, leaving the island that was just south of the Flanoir mainland, and return to the town without any presents or souvenirs.

On Kratos' twelfth birthday, they were packing for their usual trip. Kratos was staring out the window at the kids chasing each other in the snow, knocking each other down, throwing snowballs. He sighed, thinking of how much he hated his birthday. Every year, his mother found some excuse to drag him away from Folia. This year, she wanted to teach him to swim. She said that he didn't have as many opportunities to learn these things as the other kids. And every year, when they got to wherever it was that they were going, she would meet up with the same man and talk with him, all the while trying to divert her son's attention. He was never fooled.

The man was tall, a good deal taller than she was. Other than that, Kratos had no idea what he looked like. He always wore a hooded cape, keeping his face covered. The only thing Kratos noticed was the fact that he always greeted his mother with a hug, and that he always was close to her.

He wondered if she had a boyfriend. He didn't mind. He'd often had dreams about a father, someone to laugh with, to goof around with. The only problem he had was that every year, seeing the man reminded him that he was, and always would be, fatherless.

"Kratos?" Lacey called in her musical voice. "Dear, we should be going now. We'll miss the boat." He sighed again, hoisting a false smile onto his face as his mother came into his tiny room. It didn't fool her. "Honey, is something wrong? You look like-"

Kratos never did find out what he looked like because, at that moment, his mother screamed and fell to the ground, writhing in pain. He ran to her, trying to hold her still as she twitched and screamed. Suddenly, she stopped and turned on her side, vomiting and coughing up blood. Thinking quickly, he took off, running down the stairs and out into the bitter cold. He paid no attention to the fact that he had no coat or shoes as he raced through the snow, getting strange looks and giggles. He stopped when he reached the doctor's office, a tiny building that seemed miles away from his home.

The doctor was an old man who'd treated both Kratos and Lacey before. He didn't see them as any different from any other patient. Kratos burst through the door, calling for the doctor.

"My, my, what's wrong, my boy? Usually, you're gone by this time on your birthd-"

"My mama is coughing up blood!"

The old man froze. Then he said, "Well, boy, we haven't got much time, have we?"

The pair ran as fast as they could towards his house. However, it was slow going as the doctor wasn't the most agile of people. They finally made it there, pushing through the crowd of people who had heard Lacey scream and were converging on the house.

"Move!" Kratos yelled. Although the scream had stopped long ago, he was afraid that his mother might be in pain. He led the doctor up to his room, where his she lay covered in her own blood.

The doctor had Kratos gather blankets and pillows, as he thought it would be unsafe to move her. He checked her heart, her throat, and her lungs. Finally, he sighed and let her lay there, shivering and still vomiting blood, this time into a bucket Kratos had gotten.

"Young man, we have to get her to Flanoir. I don't have the proper equipment to treat her here. Hurry, go to the dock and stop the next boat before it leaves. I'll send for one of the stronger men to carry her to the boat."

Kratos nodded, only half aware of what was happening. It seemed like a dream to him. He ran out of the house, barefoot once again, and sprinted to the docks. The boat was still there.

"Hey! Hey!" he screamed, trying to get someone's attention. "Hey! Don't leave yet!"

He was in luck. One of the sailors stopped and let him talk. They promised to hold the boat for another hour. Kratos ran back, meeting one of the men who worked in a mine carrying Lacey. They set the two up in a tiny room with a cot and left Folia. All the way to the mainland, Kratos talked to his semi-conscious mother.

"Don't worry, Mama," he whispered. "When we get to Flanoir, they'll heal you. It'll be fine."

"Kra-Kratos…" her voice was faint and weak. "Sweetheart, I lo-love you."

"Don't talk!" He paused, then said, "I love you, too, Mama."

"Dear, if I…leave you, go to Meltokio. Find a man named Benjamin. He'll explain it all to you and look after you." She then stopped to shiver and turn on her side.

"Mama! Don't talk like that. We'll get you to Flanoir and get you better. I promise."

Lacey sighed and closed her eyes. If it hadn't been for her breathing, Kratos would've thought she was dead. He sighed and curled up by her feet, feeling himself falling into a dreamless sleep.

"Hey! Hey, kid, wake up!"

Kratos opened his eyes to see a burly man standing above him, holding his limp mother in his arms. "Good, you're awake. We're at the Flanoir mainland. We sent someone to bring a protozoan to carry you guys through the snow to the hospital." He nodded to the stairs that lead to the deck. "They're waiting for you. Hope she gets better." With a nod, the man departed with Lacey, Kratos scrambling to follow.

As they stepped into the swirling white mass, he became painfully aware of the fact that he had neither coat nor shoes. He sighed and found his way to the protozoan that awaited him. His mother was laid gently in a covered cart hitched to the animal.

The ride to Flanoir was short and cold. The man who'd come to lead them to town didn't say a word to Kratos until they reached the hospital, at which point he said, "Here we are. I'll get her inside."

The man lifted Lacey and took her into the hospital. Kratos climbed off the protozoan and landed on his now numb feet. He ran into the hospital as fast as possible, just in time to see his mother whisked away on a gurney by a person he assumed to be a doctor.

"Hey! Where are you taking her?" he questioned angrily.

"She has blood in her lungs. They have to get it out," a young woman in a white uniform said kindly. "Don't worry, son, she'll be out soon. Why don't you just wait here until she gets back?" She gestured to an uncomfortable looking chair beside her.

Kratos sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor came out of a door and spoke to the uniformed woman in whispers. Kratos waited impatiently in the chair, recalling what he'd always been taught about interrupting adults. The woman sighed and kneeled down to the twelve-year-old's eye level.

"Where's Mama?" he demanded.

She sighed. "Your mother is…fine, for now."

"For…now? Is she going to get better?"

"Sweetheart, your mother isn't…going to get better. She's been poisoned, and we don't have an antidote. …You should go see her."

Kratos ran past her and tore down the hall. Why was she poisoned? How? The questions bounced around in his head. He finally saw her, lying in bed in one of the many rooms. He rushed in to find her awake.

"Mama! You're okay!" he yelled. But he fell silent when he saw her face.

She looked oddly peaceful, but not in a good way. The eerie happiness made Kratos want to run back to Folia, or farther. But he shakily approached her.

"Mama, the doctor said you were…poisoned?" He asked it with false hope, as if the doctor was playing a joke on him.

Lacey nodded and pulled her son in a hug. "Kratos, my baby, listen to me. I'm not going to be around for very long. You have to do what I say. First of all, I've told the doctors to check you for the poison. I want you to be safe. Secondly, don't worry about money. I told them what I'm going to tell you now."

She sighed, just as her son always did. This time, however, the sigh brought a stream of blood out of her mouth into a bucket by the bed. Kratos went to call a doctor, but his mother held him close.

"Kratos, listen to me. I have to tell you something. I know that you've noticed that I spend time with a man outside of Folia. I want to tell you who Benjamin is."

Kratos closed his eyes, still held by his mother. Now came the part when she would confess that she was in love with this man.

"Kratos, Benjamin is your brother."

His eyes snapped open. Brother? No, he had no brother. No father, no brother. How could he have a brother, particularly an older one, one he could've mistaken for her boyfriend? It wasn't possible.

"Years ago-" She coughed up more blood. "Oh, my. I have to make this quick, don't I?"

"No…" Kratos felt the tears roll down his face, into his mother's hair. She couldn't be dying, she was going to live, to get better. He buried his face in her hair. "Mama, no…"

"Listen carefully. This is the shortened version. Years ago, I was married to an important man. I don't want you to know who he is. I never want you to meet him." Kratos listened, not really understanding.

"It was an arraigned marriage, and I didn't love him. But, I went along with it, because I was young and poor. I married him, lived with him, stuck by him even when he did some of the most horrible things. We had a child together, a boy. That's Benjamin. When he was fifteen, almost sixteen, I got pregnant again, this time with you." She sighed. "That's why I ran away. Your father had turned Benjamin into a soldier of fortune, a man whose whole life was sin. I didn't want my other child to be like that, so I left. Benjamin contacted me a year later. He said he'd changed his ways and wanted to see you."

Lacey stopped to cough some more blood out. Kratos moved to allow her to reach the bucket. She smiled, despite the fact that she had tears in her eyes and blood in her mouth.

"Benjamin knows who you are. He's been watching us this whole time. Every year, I take you away so Benjamin can see you. He warned me that your father knew where we were and that he wanted me to pay for embarrassing him. I wasn't scared. After all, I thought, what could he do to me?"

Kratos held her hand and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. "Mama, who is he? I'll get him! I'll have him give me the antidote-"

She shushed him and shook her head. "Oh, Kratos, you shouldn't know who he is. You're better off without him in your life. But, I do want you to find Benjamin. Please. He'll watch out for you. Go to Meltokio and find him. There's some money in my coat pocket." She motioned to the bloodied coat in the corner before letting go yet another cough, this one much more violent than the last ones.

Kratos walked over and reached into her pocket. He pulled out a dark green pouch that held more money that he had ever thought they had.

"Mama, where'd this come from?"

Lacey chuckled darkly. "Well, now, you didn't think I would just leave empty-handed, did you?"

He put the money in his pocket and returned to his spot on the bed. "You're going to die. Soon." He felt like crying again.

"Don't be sad, my love. I'm going to a much better place, and you can take care of yourself for a while."

She coughed again, and this time much more blood came out. Kratos felt tears coming to his eyes again. She sighed and fell back onto the bed.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered.

She hesitated, then said, "Yes."

"I love you, Mama."

"I love you, too, Kratos. And promise to tell Benjamin I love him, too."

"I promise."

She moaned a little, and then her eyes closed and her breathing stopped. Kratos cried beside for a few moments before the woman from the entrance came in.

"Oh, dear. Come on, darling, let's get you home. Where do you live?"

Kratos didn't want to go back to Folia. He had no home left, not without his mother. And he'd promised to pass on a message to his brother.

"Me-Meltokio." His voice was hoarse from crying. He looked up and saw, through his tears, his last glimpse of his mother's body, being wheeled into a dark room.

"Mama."


	2. Five Years Later

**Well, I finally updated. Thanks to my one AMAZING reviewer, Alkerath, and anyone else who liked my first chapter.**

**So this isn't just about Kratos' childhood, anymore, I guess. So, if anyone's got a better title, I'd love to hear suggestions. Review, please!!**

Disclaimer: Tales of Symphonia belongs to Namco, along with all of its people, places, things, ideas, and animals.

* * *

"Good morning, Miss Tessa. How are you?"

The tiny girl behind the counter of the item shop stuttered. "Good mor-morning, Mr. Kr-Mr. Aurion." Her eyes dropped below to her feet as she mumbled her greeting. A blush came to her face and she gave an uncomfortable giggle. Other than a polite smile, Kratos ignored her and began to browse through the many items in the store. He picked out ingredients to make sandwiches for a day or two and pulled out the last of his money. As he paid Tessa, she reached under the counter and pulled out a paper.

"Um, Mr. Aurion?" she whispered shyly. " I heard that you might need another job, so I-I picked this up for you." Kratos read the flyer quickly. It was advertising for an escort to the Fooji Mountains. He looked up and half-smiled at her. "Thank you. I'll consider it."

Tessa blushed again and Kratos left, heading for the address on the paper.

It had been five years since his mother's death. Since then, the Sylvaranti had completely destroyed Folia, not that he cared much. He'd grown into a handsome young man, earning the reputation of being a heartthrob for bored, rich women. He found himself being propositioned more than once. However, that was not at the top of his list of worries.

In the years that he'd lived in Meltokio, Kratos had yet to locate his brother. Try as he might, no one named Benjamin knew who he was. The search for his brother dropped a rung when the money his mother had given him was used up. Hotel rooms and food wasn't cheap. As he was only a child, he couldn't find a steady job, so he'd turned to doing odd jobs, like hunting monsters and being a bodyguard.

With a good job, he got food and a room for a month or so. With a not-so-good one, he could buy some cheap food and find a comfy spot of dirt in the slums. And if there was a slump in business, Kratos would resort to something he had always considered immoral-theft.

He tried not to steal things as much as possible, but sometimes, it was unavoidable. He'd been caught the first couple times, but after several short trips to a cell, he'd learned how not to be seen. Surviving on his own in Meltokio had taught him more than he'd ever thought he would need to know.

The most important was how to use a sword.

* * *

_It was a slow market day. As Kratos wondered through the streets, he felt a pang of hunger. He had no idea of how to get food. He was only fourteen, after all, and no one would give him a job. He saw a bearded man cooking some kind of stew to sell. He had no idea what it was made of, but it teased him and his stomach. Without thinking, he snuck up behind the man, grabbed a bowl from the stack next to the pot, and dipped it in. As soon as he was sure there was food in the dish, he ducked and ran off. He could hear shouts behind him._

"_Hey! That kid stole my food!"_

_Kratos slid past people, rushed into the slums, and ducked into a small gap in between two shabby buildings. He saw guards running past the tiny space he'd squeezed into, leaving him unnoticed. As they shouted and continued to search for him, he hastily ate the fruit of his labors. He finished it in a matter of minutes and was licking the bowl when a conversation caught his attention._

"_You, woman! Have you seen a teen boy around, red hair? He's stolen food from a local vendor."_

"_Yeah, I migh' 'ave seen 'im. Wha's innit for me if I tells ya?"_

"_I suppose there may be a slight reward…"_

_Kratos listened, paralyzed. It was a slum woman and a guard talking; they were right outside his tiny crevice. The guard was asking about him. He prayed that the guard refuse to give enough of a reward for the woman to alert him of the boy's whereabouts._

"_I ain't goin' lower than fi'teen hunnerd."_

_The guard scoffed. "Please. I'll find him of my own, if you don't want to cooperate. Seven hundred."_

"_Elev'n hunnerd. No lower than that."_

"_Why don't we just make it an even thousand?"_

_There was a pause, and the woman, realizing she wasn't going to get a better deal, said, "Well, then, he be in that hidey-hole, 'tween them two buildings right there."_

_Kratos clenched his eyes shut. A hand roughly yanked him out of the space, laughter ringing from beneath his helmet._

"_Gotcha, boy! So, you like to just take stuff from honest, hard-working citizens, eh?"_

_Kratos let the man drag him through the market and up the main stairs. The woman behind them was yelling._

"'_Ey! Where the 'ell's my reward?! Damned guards! I 'ope ya burn!"_

_The guard was questioning Kratos as they made their way to the castle._

"_So, boy, who are your parents, huh? Some scruffy beggars, I bet. Probably proud of you."_

_Kratos flinched internally. His mother would be repulsed by what he'd done. Quietly, he told the guard, "I'm an orphan."_

_The guard laughed. "What, did your parents abandon you? I tell you, it's all in the genes. Bad parents have bad kids. It's a cycle." He looked down at Kratos. "I almost feel sorry for you. But I've seen kids like you, and the only way to make you fly straight is to lock you up. Maybe a week or two in a jail cell will fix you."_

_Kratos didn't say anything. As much as he hated the idea of his mother's memory being dirtied, he knew that getting angry about it would solve nothing. He waited, silent, as the man led him to a cell at the far end of the prison hallway. As he was unlocking the door, still holding Kratos' arm with one hand, he said, "It's a good thing you got caught early. Your genes make you who you are, and only discipline can fix them. Yessir, I know about kids like you. Whores for mothers, emotionless bastards for fathers. Why, I bet your slut of a mother doesn't even know whose kid you-" _

_Kratos curled his free hand into a fist. In the next second, he had hurled it into the guard's stomach, realizing too late that armor protected him. He heard a sickening crunch as his knuckles broke, followed by an intense pain shooting up his arm. The guard yelled and was knocked backwards. Before Kratos knew it, two more guards had grabbed him._

"_So," one said. "You like fighting against authority, do you?"_

_The guard twisted his arm behind his back. The other one grabbed his broken knuckles and bent them back. He screamed. The guard he'd knocked down stood up and punched him in the gut. His fist curled up again and smashed into the teen's lower ribs and diaphragm. Kratos gasped for air as he heard another crunch and felt another pain that told him some ribs were now broken._

"_That's enough."_

_The beating stopped, although the guards didn't let go of him. He opened one eye and saw the speaker. She was a tall, skinny woman, a prisoner. Her hair was black and cut short and spiky, somewhat like a man's cut. In fact, if it hadn't been for her curvy figure, Kratos would've been unable to tell she was a woman._

"_Bitch, do you want us to beat you, too?"_

"_I'd love to see you try."_

_The look the woman gave them was piercing, enough to stop a crazed killer in his tracks. Her eyes were dark brown, the color that could easily be mistaken for black. The men slowly let Kratos go, except for one who had brought him in. He roughly grabbed him and tossed him into the cell, where he fell and didn't move. He closed his eyes and listened._

"_Do you guys feel tough, roughing up a kid? That's real manly." He heard the woman walk towards him as the guards trotted down the hall, mumbling about something._

"_Hey."_

_Kratos opened his eyes. The woman was kneeling over him, her hands out. As he watched, a green light engulfed him. He felt the pain numb, even though it was still there. He knew that as soon as the spell wore off, it would hurt again._

"_There. It should heal much faster that way. Can you sit up?"_

_He groaned and, with her help, he was soon sitting up. She nodded. _"_There you go. Let me see your hand." He showed her his broken knuckles, which were swelled and purple. "Damn guards. Still, if you hadn't been dumb enough to hit one…"_

"_Ugh…thanks." Kratos looked up at her._

"_You're lucky. I've seen them do much more damage."_

"_You must have a bad reputation for them to listen to you, Ms., um…"_

"_Vidal. And, no, I don't. They're bullies, and just like all bullies, if you stand up to them, they fall in your shadow."_

"_Oh. Anyway, thank you, Ms. Vidal."_

"_You aren't really a slum kid, are you?"_

"_No."_

"_Didn't think so. If you were born in the slums, you wouldn't have gotten caught, or started something with the guards." __Vidal stood up and went to the bars of the cell. "Yo! If you kick someone's ass, at least have the decency to give them some bandages!"_

_A guard came back with a roll of bandages, which he handed her with unnecessary force. She took it coldly. "Don't mock us, woman," he threatened. "Or you will pay."_

"_Yeah, yeah, I'm shaking in my boots. Go be obnoxious to someone who buys into your tough-guy charade."_

_The guard raised his hand as if to strike her, but Vidal simply stared him down until he left. "Here, kid, I'll patch you up."_

"_Thanks again. I'm Kratos, by the way."_

_He thought she hesitated for a moment as she was unrolling the bandages, but he passed it off as either his imagination or some kind of brain injury the guards had given him._

"_So, why were you in the slums, anyway? You said yourself, you're not a slum kid."_

_As Vidal tightly wrapped the bandages around his wounds, Kratos told her about what had happened to him since his twelfth birthday. She listened patiently to his story, nodding occasionally. When he finished, she said, "Well, you've certainly been through hell, haven't you?"_

"_Yeah, you could say that." He gingerly stood, staring at he bandages on his bare chest. "So, while you're here, do you know anything about my brother? His name's Benjamin."_

"_Nope. Sorry I can't help you." She looked at him . "I take it you can't fight?"_

"_You mean, with a weapon?"_

"_No, with a dumb question. Yes, with a weapon!"_

"_No. My mother always said that fighting only leads to fear and terror."_

"_Well, she was right. But you'll have a much better chance of getting a job if you can defend yourself. Here." She glanced around and found a small pile of rusted metal bars in the corner of the cell. She picked two up and tossed one to Kratos. "I'll teach you to use a sword. That way, you can take jobs helping people defeat monsters. It'll get you money, and maybe you'll be able to protect yourself when you need it." _

"_Um, shouldn't I be resting? Is it okay that I'm up and fighting?" _

"_Can you breathe? Can you talk?" At his nod, she continued, "Then you can fight." She held the bar up in front of her, demonstrating a battle stance._

"_Now, hold it like this and try to hit me."_

* * *

"Excuse me, did you put this advertisement up?" Kratos was facing a scrawny-looking young man in thick glasses. He had long, stringy purple hair and light green eyes. He was clearly a scholar, not really suited for battling his way to a mountain.

"Yes. Do you want to take the job?"

"Possibly. How much does it pay?"

"Please, come in, Mr.?"

"Kratos."

"Kratos, please come in."

"Thank you."

Kratos entered the luxurious house. Ornamental murals on the walls depicted each of the ten Summon Spirits and their respective elements. Shelves of books were lined up beside each other in the middle of the huge room, with dozens of large, superfluous chairs around them. This was clearly a family with too much time and money on their hands.

The man who'd answered the door motioned for Kratos to sit across from him. "My name is Andrew Bailey. And the escort job I need you for…it's not exactly an _escort._"

"What exactly is it, Mr. Bailey?"

Bailey hesitated. "Well, I have an older sister. She's nineteen, and I'm afraid that she's been getting involved with some people who may not be thinking of her best interests-"

"And you want me to follow her," Kratos interrupted.

"Not just that. I know they meet at the top of the mountain, but I want her to be safe. Can you protect her, and teach anyone who puts her in danger a lesson?"

"Please define 'lesson.'"

"I want you," Bailey said slowly, "to kill them."

"My apologies, but I'm not an assassin. My services are merely for protection against monsters. I cannot help you." He stood up to leave.

"Wait!" Bailey sputtered. "You're Kratos Aurion, right? I heard you're looking for a man named Benjamin. I might be able to help you out."

Kratos froze. After five years of searching, this tiny man may have the key to his family. For a moment, he considered threatening Bailey for the information, but the thought of his mother made him humiliated by even thinking such a thing as threatening another human being.

"Mr. Bailey?" Kratos turned back to him.

"Yes?"

"Can we come to a compromise?"

* * *

It was simple: wait at the top of the Fooji Mountains for the girl, whose name was Kay. Watch over her. Kratos sighed. It had been an hour and he was the only one at the top of that mountain. It was just getting dark, and he was about to leave, when a nervous-looking young man showed up. He paced around the top of the mountain for ten minutes, waiting, before a girl-he assumed she was Kay-appeared.

"Donny!" She squealed and ran into his arms. They kissed passionately, and Kratos massaged his temples. He watched for a few moments more, to ensure that no danger was present. He was 99% sure she would be fine.

He became 100% sure when Donny began to unbutton the back of Kay's dress.

He considered sneaking away silently, but he knew the ways of women. And Bailey _had_ blackmailed him. Might as well teach him a lesson.

"Excuse me." Kratos stood up and strode out from behind the tree where he'd been hiding.

"Ahh!" Kay pressed herself against Donny. "Who the hell are you?"

"Your brother, Andrew, hired me to follow you. However, you're boring me, so I'm leaving. Good evening to you."

As he stalked down the mountain, he heard Kay yell in a rage, "Dammit! Andy is going to get his ass kicked!"

He broke into a sprint, laughing like mad as he tore down the mountain. He hoped Bailey had fun when his sister got home tonight.

Bailey answered the door ten minutes later when Kratos showed up, winded from the long run, but otherwise fine.

"Mr. Kratos! Where is Kay?"

"She's fine, she's with a boyfriend."

"Oh. Um, so, are you going to watch her for a little more?"

"No."

"But we had a deal!"

"I kept her out of danger; now give me what I want."

"Please! I won't tell you a damn thing! My sister-"

"Is fine!" Kratos held his sword up against Bailey's throat. Whether or not his mother would like it, he was sick of this bastard. "I did my job! Tell me where my brother is!"

"Okay, okay! At the Meltokio Jail, there's a prisoner in Cell 20 who knows something!"

"Anything else?" He added a little pressure to the blade.

"No! I don't know anything else!"

"Good. Now, I believe there's also the matter of my money."

"This is extortion!" Bailey hissed as he pulled some money out of a gold pouch.

"You promised the person on the flyer 20,000 gald for his services." He counted the money, was satisfied that it was the correct amount, and walked away, leaving Bailey to slam the door behind him.

The next day, Kratos went to the Meltokio Jail. "Excuse me." The guard at the desk glared at him over the top of his book.

"What?"

"I'd like to visit one of your prisoners. Cell 20."

The guard grunted. "Follow the hallway, you'll see the sign."

"Thank you."

Suddenly, Kratos grew nervous. After years of searching, his brother may be within his grasp. He tried not to get his hopes up. After all, this could just be a false lead. _Only one way to find out,_ he thought. And with that in mind, he opened the door and entered the dark void of Cell 20.


	3. Let It Be

Good news and bad news, oh loyal fans. All three of you. Bad news: This chapter is boring, short, and terribly written. Good new: The next chapters should be a hell of a lot less dull. Now that I've written the background crap, I can add drama, action, and an abused illegitimate rape child**_*_REVIEW PLEASE!!**.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia. In case you don't get that concept.

A/N: The rhyme in this chapter is a poem written by my friend Crazy Shannon. Thanks muchly, Shannon!

**__**

*Yes, really.

* * *

"_Get back here!"_

_Kratos dashed faster through the slums. It had been a month and a half since his first trip to Meltokio prison. A month and a half later, he'd been seen again, this time stealing something of more value than a street vendor's soup._

_The sword was much larger than the steel rods he'd been practicing with lately. The glint of metal in the sun was conspicuous; he'd forgotten to grab a sheath. For a month and a half, he'd been planning this, and now he was about to be caught. But he'd learned from his mistakes._

_Kratos climbed up the ladder two rungs at a time, ending on the roof of a large, shabby building. Ignoring two young girls who were playing with ragdolls, he leapt onto another roof. The guards were still following him, but he had a plan._

_He made another jump, this time intentionally missing the next roof. Instead, he jumped through the open window a few feet below it._

_Time in the slums had taught him that this particular house was abandoned, used only by children playing games. He slid the weapon underneath an aging cabinet. After making sure it was properly hidden, he climbed out the window, closed his eyes, and dropped below._

_He landed hard on his back. As he tried to sit up, he felt a hand grab the front of his shirt._

"_Come on," was all the guard said to him. Much less talkative than the one who'd arrested him last time, this man wasn't gruff with him. He held onto Kratos' arm tightly, but he did nothing to aggravate the boy._

_When they reached the prison, one of the guards nodded to him. "He the kid who grabbed a weapon?"_

"_Dunno," the guard who held Kratos said. "Didn't have it with him, but I think it's him."_

"_Oh? Where is it, little boy?"_

_Kratos simply stared at him._

"_So, don't want to tell us, do you? How about if I were to twist your arm a little?"_

"_You couldn't twist a string." The guard leered at him in response. His hand rose in an open-palm slap and came down hard on Kratos' face. He raised his hand again, threateningly._

"_It was a cheap sword, right? Just let it be."_

_Kratos swore internally. She just always had to be the one to save him. He had planned to take the beating, to show these men that they couldn't bully him._

_The quieter guard dragged him by his arm and pushed him into the cell, almost smack into Vidal. This time, he didn't fall._

"_Listen, lady, we don't want any trouble from you. I don't like hitting woman."_

"_Oh, yeah, because defenseless kids are so much easier!" Vidal's eyes drilled into the man, as if daring him to hit her. He turned and walked away._

"_Hey, kid. How are you doing?" Vidal turned and met his angry face. "Whoa. Who pissed in your breakfast?"_

"_I don't have enough money to eat breakfast!"_

"_Oh, so that's why you're being such a horse's ass to me."_

"_Why did you do that? I had a plan!"_

"_What was your plan, to get beaten into a bloody pulp like last time? I think you went wrong somewhere in that plan."_

_Kratos shoved her, making her stumble. "I was going to show them how tough I was!"_

_For a moment, Vidal looked dumbfounded. Then she burst into peels of laughter. "You idiot! Getting your ass kicked doesn't show how tough you are, just how dumb!"_

"_You told me to stand up to bul-"_

"_Yes, but not to go looking for bullies to stand up to." She shook her head at him._

"_I just wanted to show the guards here that I won't be bossed around by them. I refuse to be beaten down by them." Kratos stomped his foot angrily. _

"_Kratos, listen to yourself. You stole something just so you could prove to the guards that you're tough."_

"_Actually," Kratos admitted, "I wasn't planning on getting caught stealing the sword. _

"_You're still practicing your sword, huh? That's good."_

"_I'm not done with you! I'm still mad that you stood up for me."_

"_Oh, you are? Well, remind me not to next time." She reached over and picked up two pieces of metal, just like last time. As she tossed one to Kratos, she said, "Let's see how much you've improved."_

* * *

"Hey, kid. How goes the swordplay?" Vidal had aged, but her hair was still short and her eyes were still piercing. As he entered the cell he knew so well, Kratos suddenly felt bitterness take control of him. She had lied to him. She had known all along.

"I talked to Andrew Bailey," he said through gritted teeth. "You knew the whole time who my brother was?"

"From the second I knew your name." Vidal hung her head. From the way she spoke, it was clear that she'd been expecting this for a while.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked angrily.

"It would've put you in danger."

"Why?"

"I guess I have to tell you now."

"Damn straight." Kratos sat down beside her, most of his anger replaced by a desperate need for information. She sighed.

"It starts years ago, when I was a child. Lacey and I were best friends, living in the slums. Lacey's mother had died giving birth to her, and her father hated her for it. Heavy drinker who had better aim when he was drunk. Lacey developed thick skin and strong bones. My father was a gambler, my mother a mute. We used to run around as kids and wreak havoc, stealing things and having races through the high class part of town.

Any way, we were the best of friends. Lacey was a much better friend to me than I was to her. When she was nineteen, a man came around and asked to marry her. He was every slum girl's dream: handsome, polite, rich. Most girls would kill to have her luck.

She agreed on the condition that he take me into his home, too. So, I was given the job of head maid of his home.

I helped to deliver Benjamin. Lacey was only twenty, and your father was seven years older. He looked good for his age. He was in the army, rising through the ranks."

"My mother said that he did horrible things."

"She didn't lie there. Kratos, do you who Andrew Bailey's father is?"

"No."

"He's the head general of the defense council. The man who makes all the war decisions. And beneath him, there are more generals, the ones who influence his choices. Your father is one of them. That's how Bailey knows me. He's part of the reason I got locked up."

"What did my father do?" Kratos bowed his head, feeling white-hot anger welling up inside himself. Nothing his father had done had ever done him any good.

"Do you know why Heimdall is considered neither Sylvarant or Tethe'alla territory?" Vidal asked.

"If I'm right, they refused to be involved in the war." He remembered what he'd learned in school, even now, years later.

"That's what you're supposed to think."

"Oh, good, another conspiracy. Just what I need."

"No one wants to deal with the elves. The half-elves aren't accepted by either race; the elves aren't accepted by either country. You'd think they'd understand each other." Vidal sighed. She looked tired. "There was an attack on Heimdall planned by your father; your brother got hold of the information and organized a group to save the people of Heimdall. Andrew Bailey and I were in it. We got the villagers to a safe place, so when the soldiers came, the place was empty. They came home without spilling blood."

"I sense a but coming."

"But Bailey betrayed us. He told his father who had saved them. Almost every person who'd been involved was either imprisoned or died trying to get away. Every person, that is, except for Benjamin.

After they put me in jail, Lacey came and told me that she was taking you and leaving. I warned her that he would chase both of you, no matter where she went. She told me that she was going to fake your death."

"She told me a totally different story," Kratos whispered, ashamed of himself. How had he never known this?

"She also hid your entire family background from you. Why are you so surprised?"

"Why didn't Benjamin leave my father, too?"

"I don't know. Maybe he thought it was safer than running."

Kratos was silent for a second. Finally, he asked, "Where is Benjamin now?"

She hesitated. "He...disappeared three years ago."

"Is he dead?" Kratos' heart sank.

"Maybe not," Vidal said hastily. "Check Heimdall. My minor contact with the outside world leads me to believe there was another attack there."

"There was, a while ago. It was torched, but no one was reported hurt."

Vidal was quiet. "This would never had happened if Tethe'allans and Sylvaranti could just live in peace with each other, the elves, and the half-elves."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the half-elves are treated like scum everywhere but Heimdall. And it's not totally fair there, either. There's prejudice everywhere." She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. "The reason Heimdall was attacked was because the generals, particularly your father, want to purge the world of elves and half-elves. The attacks on Heimdall aren't really attacks. They're attempted genocide."

As this sunk in, Kratos had already made up his mind. Kratos tried to sound as authoritative as possible. "Tell me his name."

Vidal opened one eye, making Kratos' previous authority deflate. "Don't talk to me like that. I promised your mother I'd never tell you. Besides, your better off not knowing."

"Why?"

"Trust me, he's not totally sane. If he ever found out you were alive, you'd be in a hole."

Kratos sighed. He knew Vidal was too stubborn to tell him. "Fine. I'll just have to find out on my own."

"Kratos…" Vidal said quietly. "Don't look for trouble. Getting revenge for everything your father's done is a complete waste of your time. Go get a job, a life, and a girlfriend. Let it be."

"I can't. That bastard killed my mother, for all I know, my brother, too. And if he ever finds out who I am, I'm in danger, too."

Suddenly, Vidal's head snapped up. "Kratos! How did you find me?"

"I-I told you, I talked to Bailey," he said, startled by her reaction.

"But why Bailey? Did you just randomly start questioning people about Benjamin?"

"I got hired for a job for him. To get me to do it, he told me he knew who I was and that he could tell me about Benjamin."

"The job," she said sharply, "how did you find out about it?"

"Someone gave me the flyer."

She inhaled sharply. "Leave. Get out of Meltokio."

"Wh-why?"

"Because he just confirmed who you are. I'll bet three inches of my right arm that job was a fake, planted just to see if you are who he thinks you are. He suspected you were Lacey's son."

"How would it be me? I'm long gone, remember?"

She shook her head. "You're a dead ringer for your father. Same hair, same eyes, same face…you look different enough not to attract attention, but similar enough that if someone's looking for you, they can recognize you. _And_ you let him know what your name is." She shook her head in disbelief.

"How was I supposed to know that he would alert a psychotic killer to find me?"

Vidal stood up. "This isn't the time for jokes. You have to leave. Now."

"But this is perfect! I'll wait for him to find me and take care of him now!"

Vidal grabbed his shoulders. "No! Listen to me! You are in danger. Nothing will stop him, not even a sword to the neck. And lets not forget that if you do manage to kill him, you'll get about as far as the Meltokio gates before the guards catch you and execute you. Get out of here. If you leave now, they can't find you."

"Where the hell am I going go, Vidal? Back to that floating ice cube that used to be my home? Oh, wait, that's ashes now, isn't it?" He glared at her. "I'll be fine."

Vidal glared back. "You're really not too bright, are you?"

"Do you remember what you told me a long time ago?" Kratos asked. "You said that if you stand up to bullies, they fall in your shadow. My father is a bully."

"No, your father is a maniac. Don't stand up to maniacs, Kratos, it's hazardous to your health."

Kratos sighed. "Fine. You win. I'll leave."

Vidal exhaled. "That's a relief. I don't want to have to waste time worrying about you."

"Vidal, I won't get to see you again, will I?"

"Probably not. So get your goodbyes in now, kid." She paused before saying, "I'll miss you. It's going to be lonely with only the guards to talk to."

The two said their farewells quickly. Vidal said that Kratos only had a few hours before he'd have to leave.

"Goodbye, Vidal. Take care of yourself."

Vidal closed her eyes as he left. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her say a rhyme his mother had always said to him before bed.

"Be safe, child, for the road you travel

May not always be safe

And can often unravel."

He felt guilty about what he was going to do. But he hadn't really lied to her. Just given her an implication. He left the prison and went to the soldiers' quarters of the castle.

"Excuse me." He addressed one of them.

"Yeah?" He had a gruff voice and a gruffer attitude.

"I've heard that some of the generals train new recruits. Is that true?"

"Ah, yeah. Why are you asking? Gonna become a soldier?"

"I was considering it, yes."

The man smiled a disturbing smile, revealing his crooked yellow teeth. "Then you've come to the right place."

Kratos began to look over the forms and regulations for becoming a recruit. This seemed like the easiest way to leave Meltokio. And, really, where better than to hide than in plain sight? Still, the feeling of lying to his friend stuck with him. He quashed the feeling by telling himself that, really, he'd never lied. It was Vidal who'd failed to specify how he was supposed to leave the city.

_Let it be_ she had said. How could he let it be? His father had taken so much away from him. He was now going to get revenge, as well as save his own life. How could he even consider 'letting it be'?

He couldn't. He simply could not let it be.


	4. Nameless

**Yay! I put a chapter up pretty quickly. This is what happens when you play hockey over spring break. You end up on your computer with your leg in a cast. Fun, fun. Anyway, the chapters should be updated pretty fast, now that I have way too much time on my hands. Also, this chapter skips around a lot. Sorry about that, but it's just my writing style.**

**I like reviews. Not that I'm saying _you_ guys, the readers, should review or anything like that. I'm just saying, I like them.**

DISCLAIMER: BY THIS POINT, YOU SHOULD REALIZE I DON'T OWN TALES OF SYMPHONIA.

* * *

A change of clothes and some food was all he needed. Anything else would weigh him down. Not that he had anything else. Too much of a burden on his mother for her to even send him to school; he'd never expected anything else.

He'd always wanted to go to a school. The other children his age carried books home and complained of all the work they had to do that night. He'd longed to be able to read those books, to learn what they learned. But his mother had told him many times that he was simply too stupid to go to school.

"If you go there, what do you think will happen? Huh? They'll look at you, see you, and know you don't belong. Because you don't. You don't belong. You're a tainted soul, a child with only half a human mind. Think of it this way, boy. I'm protecting you."

Boy. He hated that. She was his mother, she had given him a name. Why didn't she use it?

He slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a hole where it hit. No more. He wanted to leave, to never come back. He wanted Asgard to be just another spot on a map, a series of symbols he couldn't decipher.

He knew why his mother hated him. She'd relive the story so often, he knew it by heart.

"You know, I once had a happy life. But your father, he took it all away. I was going to be married, to a nice human man. We were going to have a nice human family, a normal family.

I visited Heimdall once, just to see what it was like. I'd heard it was beautiful, surrounded by lovely forests.

Your father, that damn elf, owned the inn. He came into my room one night and forced himself on me. I came back here and told my fiancé. At first, he accepted me. He tried to help me through the fear and pain. He was supportive when I became pregnant. But the day you were born, when it became clear you were a half-elf, he left. All because of you."

That was why she hated him. Why she insulted him, why she beat him. She looked frail, but in reality, she hit hard. Slaps, punches, kicks…he'd learned not to disobey her. Sometimes, she'd lock him in the closet for days. He remembered hungry nights, days without food and water, freezing temperatures with no source of heat. He sometimes made a little fire with magic. He knew that she could never find out about his magical abilities. The first time he showed her, she doused him with boiling water and told him that water could burn just as easily.

He stood up straight. Almost six feet tall, his blue hair hung down his back messily. The same blue hair as his father, apparently. The same green eyes. He looked nothing like his mother, who had pale blonde hair and dark eyes. He sighed as he pulled the bag of essentials onto his back and left his room.

It was early in the morning, just past sunrise. His mother was already up, washing dishes at the sink. He hadn't expected that; she was usually still asleep this early.

"Boy, where are you going?" She approached him, her hands still wet.

"I'm not sure," he answered quietly. It had just come to his attention that he had to look down on her; he'd grown taller.

"Why are you carrying a bag?" she asked suspiciously. "Boy, you aren't thinking of running away, are you?"

He didn't answer. She slapped him with her wet hand. "I'm waiting." Still no answer. She slapped him again, harder this time. "Answer me, boy!" She slapped him again, and again, each time referring to him as 'boy'. Soon, his cheeks were bright red from her hand.

"Answer your mother, boy!"

He whispered something. She cupped a hand over her ear. "I can't hear you, boy!"

"I said," he said, his voice now rising, "you are not, nor will you ever be, a mother!"

She slapped him again. "You son of a bitch! I gave birth to you, gave you a name, raised you, taught you right from wrong, and you'd leave? For sixteen years, I dealt with you, and you just walk away like you don't owe me anything?! Well, we'll see about that." She slapped him again.

"If you gave me a name, why don't you ever use it?!" he yelled. He was strong enough to try to run away; he was strong enough to yell back.

"You don't deserve a name, you miserable little half-elf!" She raised her hand to slap him again, but he was faster. This time, his hand struck her face.

The noise stopped. They both stared at each other, shocked by his action. She made no attempt to hit him back.

He slapped her again. And again. He grabbed her hair and yanked it up, pulling her with it. His knee hit her stomach several times, each time causing her to cry out in pain. All of his anger seemed to be coming out now, directed at her. He dropped her on the ground and began to kick her. Again and again, his boot scraped against the floor and connected with various body parts. Suddenly, he caught sight of her face.

He had spent years staring at his own reflection; he knew those eyes. No, not just the eyes, the tears, too. The tears streaming down his own face, wincing in pain as he tenderly touched his bruises. He stopped, slightly repulsed by what he was doing. He'd lived through the pain. He didn't want to inflict it on anybody, not even the woman who'd done it to him.

He turned and began to leave. She called out to him, calling him by his real name.

"Yuan, please don't leave me. I'm your mother. Please, Yuan."

She sounded so pitiful. He almost wanted to turn around. Almost.

"Yuan, don't go, come back!"

He began to walk down the steps. She followed on her hands and knees, still crying and calling him.

"Yuan! Yuan, I'm your mother! Don't leave me here alone!"

He couldn't stand it. He broke into a run, running from her voice calling out his name. A name she seldom used, filled with spite when she did. He'd listened all his life to it. Now he had the chance to ignore it, to let the wind carry it away. He took it.

* * *

It was a week or so before the news reached Kratos. He'd been staying at the inn, waiting to be contacted by someone from the Tethe'allan army. He was beginning to start a daily work out, which included a sprint around town.

He'd taken to going near the Coliseum to chat with the people fighting there. Information on the war passed through the grapevine; he kept an ear out for news of Benjamin or Heimdall.

That day, a group of men were laughing about something and gesturing to a flyer that had been hanging up. Kratos stopped and sat, listening, and caught a bit of their conversation.

"…execute that ignorant bitch in Cell 20-"

"What did you say?" he asked suddenly, approaching them.

The speaker looked startled and looked at him. "Um, you see, the woman in Cell 20 of the Meltokio Jail was convicted years ago for helping the elves escape Heimdall. Locked up for life. If you ask me, she should've gotten executed way back then." He and his group laughed. Kratos waited impatiently, shooting them a dirty look. The man uncomfortably continued. "Anyway, so this woman just recently was in contact with a traitor, or so I heard. Once they found that out, General Bailey didn't even hesitate. Ordered her execution immediately. It's scheduled for tomorrow."

Kratos walked away as the men began to talk about some other trivial thing. Vidal was going to be…executed? He sat down, feeling slightly sick. The only reason he could think of that she was being executed now was because of him.

He realized that Vidal was his last shred of sanity, the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. He would've gone insane, or died of hunger, long ago if not for her. She'd taught him to fight, taught him to live, and taught him stand. He couldn't let her die. He wouldn't. He would save her.

* * *

"You're supposed to be anywhere but here, kid." She didn't sound surprised that he hadn't left.

"I decided not to go. But more importantly, you're about to be executed. I have a plan to get you out-"

"Kratos," she cut him off, "I sent you away for a reason. Go."

"Listen to me!"

"No."

Kratos glared at her angrily. Didn't she know how important she was to him? Finally, Vidal shook her head. "I knew this would happen. I just knew it."

"What?"

"You're too damn stubborn. I told you to leave, and you didn't. Are you trying to get yourself killed, or do you just want a thrill?"

"Don't you realize that you're the one who's going to die, Vidal?"

"Oh, yes, a horrible death. You fight monsters until they kill you."

"And-and you're okay with that?!" he stuttered. "You don't care if you become a useless sacrifice?"

"Useless? I feel pretty useful. I'm dying for my beliefs, my ideals, and for a person I care about. My sacrifice is only useless if you choose to make it so."

Kratos bowed his head. He felt tears streaming down his face, the first time in years. He refused to believe that Vidal, the woman who'd stood up for him numerous times, taught him to fight back, was simply accepting this fate.

"Kratos." He felt a hand pull his chin up and was staring into her eyes. "Kratos, you are strong. You don't know it, but you are. You were, what, twelve when you're mother died? How many kids do you think could handle that by themselves? You've lived with no home and no family. You are strong enough that if you want to, you could fall in love, make a family. You shouldn't have to live for revenge. It was your mother's battle; she lost. You shouldn't have to fight it anymore."

She pulled him close to her and led him to the bench along the cell wall. There, she shushed him and let him cry on her shoulder. It was if a dam had burst. He hadn't cried this much since his mother died.

After Kratos had pulled himself together, Vidal pointed towards the door. "You have a choice now, kid. Either go out there and use your sword for revenge, or use it to make a new life."

He didn't go to the execution. He didn't think he could take watching his friend, who'd protected him for years, being killed by monsters. He would've attended a funeral, but convicts didn't have one. They were buried in a numbered grave. Kratos visited the yard the executed cons were laid to rest the day after they buried her. Grave number 568. No name, just a number.

He gave up the idea of finding his father. He still wanted to be a soldier, though. He wasn't quite sure what to do with his life. And he knew that if he ever _did_ learn his father's name, Kratos would put him in his own grave, with his own nameless number. He would never forget that Vidal had died at his hands, along with his mother.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Kratos stepped into the office of his colonel. For two years, he'd been just a guard for the city under this man's command. He envied the men who went out to fight in real battles. The closest thing to action he ever saw was a band of inept slum thieves. He wasn't harsh on them; he would never forget the pain of hunger.

"Come in, Aurion." The colonel stood up and shook the inferior officer's hand, something that was odd. "I've been getting good reports about you."

"You have, sir?" Kratos smiled politely, but his mind was elsewhere. He had taken up the practice of magic casting, something that he didn't do well. He was going over the techniques in his head.

"Yes, yes." The man opened a cabinet behind his desk. Kratos couldn't help but think that he was nervous. "Would you like a drink, Aurion?"

"Sir," he said slowly, "What's this all about?"

The colonel fidgeted nervously with a loose string on his sleeve. "Well, you see, the generals have sent me orders. They need a team to infiltrate a town and take care of their militia, and that team needs a strong leader. Unfortunately, I'm growing old. I don't think I'm quite fit to-"

"So it's going to be dangerous?" Kratos interrupted. He didn't feel like listening to this man's self-serving logic.

"Every battle is dangerous, Aurion." He looked annoyed at his subordinate's quick, and correct, assumption. "As I was saying, I've heard good things about you. How would you like to get a promotion?"

"Do I have much of a choice?" Kratos asked.

The colonel looked ruffled. He hesitated, then held out a small silver box. "No, not really."

There was an awkward silence before Kratos nodded. "Very well, sir. Thank you." He took the box.

"In there is a symbol of your rank, a gem. The stone increases your power, gives you the ability to do magic. All you have to do is attach it to your hand, like this." He held out his hand as an example.

Kratos nodded. The colonel smiled. "I'm proud of you, Aurion. I'll send for you later in the week to iron out the details. In the meantime, practice a little with the gem."

As Kratos was leaving, he turned back around. "What town are we infiltrating, Colonel, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Heimdall."


	5. Heimdall

**MY GOD THIS IS SO LATE. By my standards, anyway. Some people don't update for, like, a year at a time. I have an excuse: my computer crashed. The good news is that I have pretty much written out my whole story on paper. All I need to do is edit it, tweak it a little, type it, and upload it. Also, to make it up to you, I made this chapter a little longer than the rest. Also, I renamed my fic. ENJOY!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia, blah, blah, blah. REVIEW, PLEASE!**

* * *

"You should leave."

Yuan looked up from his spot at the bar. The bartender, an old man with pure white hair and milky eyes, was staring down at him.

"And why is that?" Yuan asked calmly. He'd long ago learned that half-elves weren't wanted in mainstream society. Two years of traveling the world had taught him that. But he'd spent the last of his money on a drink; he certainly wasn't about to waste it by leaving.

"People here don't take kindly to your kind. You'd best be moving fast through town."

He went back to his drink. "You want me to leave, you'll have to pick me up and carry me out."

"Ah, young man, I'm not making you go anywhere. You've done nothing to me. Just giving you some friendly advice."

He didn't answer back. The bartender left after a few seconds of silence, leaving Yuan to stare into the opaque amber liquid he'd been served. The seats around him were empty of bar patrons, for which he was grateful. He didn't need people around him to glare and make snide comments. Of course, some people still did that, but they were clear across the room, which took away part of the urge to hit them.

The old man was right, he knew. He'd regret his pride later that night, but he didn't leave.

Several hours past. The bar was almost empty; his single drink was long gone. He stared into the empty glass, as if it held the solution to all his problems.

"Hey." A hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him around on the barstool. Yuan found himself face to face with a large muscled man, who seemed to have friends behind him. "This here town is _human, _and we're damn proud of it."

"Good for you." He turned around. The man yanked him back again.

"I think, boy, you should get out."

"I am not _boy_. And I have as much right to be here as you do. I'm not hurting you; get out of my face."

The man's eyes bulged. He had clearly never been challenged before, certainly never by half-elf. "We don't want you dirtying up our town. So get out, before we have to make you."

"I guess you'll have to make me." He turned around before saying something he knew was extremely stupid. "And I have to say, this town's pretty damn dirty _without_ me in it."

"What did you just say to me?" He suddenly found himself being grabbed by the back of the neck and tossed across the room. He skidded along the floor and smashed into the wall. He landed with a heavy grunt on his back. He felt his head hit the stone floor and was sure he'd just acquired a concussion. He stood up and almost fell head over heels. A wave of nausea hit, but he managed to stand straight. His hands found a nearby table for support. Too dizzy to see, the image of the group of men swam in and out of focus.

Yuan felt hands roughly grab him and drag him out. He bit, clawed, scratched, and kicked, but it was futile; his arms and legs were pinned. They tossed him outside the bar.

The first man laughed. "Stay out on the street where you belong, dog!"

He wasn't sure why he did it. Perhaps two years of abuse had finally gotten to him. Perhaps this man was simply the straw that broke the camel's back. All he knew was that at that moment, he'd never felt so enraged. He stood up and, without even meaning to, he shot his hands out and felt power rush over himself. He felt his lips yell, before actually hearing it.

"Thunder Blade!"

He didn't know what damage it did. Just that it did something, because one of the blurs was on the ground. The others were bearing down on him. He tried to move, run, fight back, but he felt drained beyond comprehension. Two of the men grabbed him roughly and dragged him, once again, to the entrance of the town. Instead of simply leaving him there, they continued to take him further and further away.

Yuan wasn't sure when he blacked out, but he was much too tired to fight back or yell for help. Besides, he knew that even if anyone heard him, they wouldn't help him. He awoke to a hand slapping him awake.

"You're going to regret what you did back there, half-elf. You'll really regret it."

It took him a moment before he realized what was going on. He was tightly tied to a tree, with a gag over his mouth. He struggled against his binds, but he still felt groggy and weak. Four men surrounded him; behind them were trees, behind which he could only imagine were more trees.

The man who'd slapped him pulled out a knife and repeated himself. "You'll really regret it."

Heimdall. Kratos checked the map again. East. He groaned. The only place 'east' seemed to be getting him was lost. He should've at least seen the Ymir Forest by now.

Four days without food. Or had it been five? He'd lost track.

Once he'd learned the details of the attack on Heimdall, he'd taken off. It was his obligation to warn the town. Of course, he had to find it first…

"Umph!" Kratos stumbled over something soft and ended up sprawled in the grass. He pushed himself up, wondering what he'd tripped over when he heard a groan. He glanced down.

"Oh my-Are you alright?" As he said it, he realized it was a stupid question. The man he'd tripped over barely looked alive, let alone conscious. His blue hair was matted to his back with blood. The clothes he wore were torn up; slashes covered his torso, face, and arms. Kratos checked his pulse, and sighed as he felt one. He rolled the man over and ripped his shirt off. He looked over the wounds, which were severe enough that bleeding to death was a real possibility.

He took a deep breath. He'd kept the gem he'd gotten, if only to gain strength. But he hadn't really practiced with it. He hoped nothing went horribly wrong with this.

"First aid!" Kratos felt mana channel through him and flow into the man lying beside him. A green light engulfed him and his eyes flickered open. Kratos watched as the man's wounds seemed to heal partially before his eyes. The blood stopped flowing, at the very least.

"Who the-the hell are you?!" The man sat up and glared at Kratos. "What do you want?"

"My name," he answered, "is Kratos. How do you feel?"

"Like someone tried to slice me open. How am I supposed to feel?"

"I just healed you. You almost died."

The man rubbed his head. "Seriously? You helped me?" He eyed him suspiciously. "You're a human. Why would you help me, a half-elf?"

"Because there was blood pouring out of you."

"…Yuan."

"What?"

"That's my name, Yuan Ka-fai."

"Kratos Aurion. Can you walk?"

In answer, Yuan stood up and stretched. "I think I'm doing okay. Thank you." He looked at Kratos. "You don't look so good."

"This coming from a man who was lying on the ground, half-dead." Kratos suddenly realized that if this man was a half-elf, he was probably from Heimdall. "Where do you live?"

Yuan stared down at the ground. "Right now, nowhere."

Kratos raised his eyebrow. "You aren't from Heimdall?"

The half-elf flinched, which Kratos took as a negative answer. "So, you don't know the way to Heimdall?"

"I've never been there. Why would I know where it is?" Yuan's mood, in the last minute, had gone sour. Kratos sighed and started to walk away, when the man behind him called his name. "What the hell is that?"

Kratos turned and looked in the direction he was pointing. Smoke was visible beyond trees. He listened closely and heard screams. He glanced back at the setting sun; the commotion was in the opposite direction.

"Damn." Kratos took off for the flames and smoke. Yuan ran behind him.

"Hey, what's happening?" Yuan caught up to him easily. "Is that Heimdall?"

"Probably." Kratos pushed himself harder. For some reason, the fact that Yuan could run faster than he could annoyed him.

The pair ran through the forest and finally came to a lake with a series of bridges over it. Groups of villagers were screaming, running away. Kratos and Yuan fought against the tide of people to enter the city. At the entrance, they spotted a couple who didn't appear to be running. In fact, the man seemed to be trying to get in. The woman was holding him back.

"Let me go, Zoe!" The man fought, but Zoe held tight.

"Stop this!" She pulled him back. "You can't go in there!"

Kratos couldn't help but notice the man. He seemed so oddly familiar. His hair in particular; he tried to get a look at the man's eyes, but they were covered with bandages. He held a cane. He realized the man was crippled, and most likely blind. He was about to ask for the man's name when Yuan grabbed his shoulder.

"Kratos! Why did you come here?" Kratos turned to face him and saw that he was staring into the town.

"To help the people, to warn them!"

"Too late to warn them, not too late to help!" Yuan ran into the town, Kratos following him.

They ran, searching for people. Soldiers ran through the village, burning anything in their path. There was a scream from a house.

"Come on, in here!" Yuan gripped Kratos' forearm and steered him into the house.

Smoke blurred their vision, but there was a couple surrounding a huge beam from their ceiling. At first, Kratos wondered why they weren't running, but the reason came into view in seconds. A little girl was screaming, trapped under the beam. Her parents were trying fruitlessly to free her.

"Hang on!" Yuan yelled, taking action. He grabbed the beam and tried to lift it. Kratos got on the other side and, with some effort, they managed to free the little girl.

"Thank you so much!" The woman yelled back as they ran from the house.

Kratos and Yuan went through the town, looking for those in need of help. They saw a few village women being harassed by soldiers.

"For elves, you sure are pretty." One of the soldiers reached over and stroked a woman's face. "Very pretty," he whispered, lunging for her. With a shriek of terror, she dodged and he instead ripped her dress.

"Bitch." The man laughed. "Do you think you can run away from me?!"

"She doesn't have to!" Yuan tackled the soldier, pinning him to the ground and punching him repeatedly.

Kratos pulled his sword out. He managed to kill a few soldiers, thanks to his gem. But more soldiers had rallied around to protect their comrades. He felt a knife slicing into his shoulder, dodged a few flaming arrows, and met several fists to his face. One soldier hit him and he felt his nose break. He ran at them, sword drawn, blood flowing freely from both nostrils. He felt his weapon sink into the stomach of someone. There was a groan as he ripped it out of him. Another soldier bashed the back of his head with something hard. He started feeling dizzy.

"Thunder Blade!" Lightening surrounded Kratos and the soldiers fell with screams of pain. Yuan ran next to him, grabbing his shoulders. "You okay?" Kratos nodded.

The girls had long since run off. Yuan looked around. "Most of the villagers saw them coming and ran. The soldiers are mostly gone; the fires have died down. I think we're good to leave now."

Suddenly, an arrow pierced Yuan's back. He groaned and fell forward, Kratos catching him. A figure loomed in front of them.

"Who are you?" Kratos asked. In response, the man grabbed his hair and yanked up. Yuan fell at his feet, unconscious. "Ugh!"

"You...who are _you_?" He pulled Kratos up and stared into his eyes. Kratos blinked, unable to fully see his questioner. Something was so familiar about those eyes. He thought back to the blind man.

"I know you." The man stared intently before realization came. "It's _you_…"

"I know it's me," Kratos said hoarsely, but the man ignored him. Still holding him, the man went behind him, to where his legs lay on the ground behind him. He brought his foot down on his calf.

Never in his life had Kratos experienced so much pain. His leg made a sickening cracking sound and his body went numb. Then it seemed like he was on fire. He wanted to scream, but for some reason, his vocal chords seemed to be broken.

"Sir!" A soldier came running up. "What should we do with them? Take them prisoner?"

"No," the man said, his voice having just a hint of disturbing amusement. "Do you see that building over there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Light it on fire and leave them here." The man let go of Kratos, turned, and walked away. The soldier ran for the building, torch in hand.

Kratos fell face-first into the ground, paralyzed with pain. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Yuan lying, his face bloody and bruised, eyes closed. He could hear the crackle of fire and footsteps as they were left there. He closed his eyes, praying just to fall asleep and never wake up. He felt bad for his newfound comrade. All he'd done was try to help the people.

Kratos could hear more footsteps approaching. He whole-heartedly expected to hear some soldier coming to put them out of their misery, or at least he hoped so.

"There you are! I didn't see you come out." Kratos recognized the voice of the woman he'd seen earlier at the entrance.

"Come on, let's get you two fixed up." Kratos felt a pinch on his arm. Seconds later, he felt sleep coming over him in waves. He welcomed it, that merciful, painless, inevitable sleep. Just as his eyes closed and he slipped into unconsciousness, she spoke again.

"Don't worry," she said soothingly. "You'll be fine."


	6. Scars

**Okay, so this is really short. It's more of a transitional chapter. FYI: The next chapter will be centered on Ben. Also, I want to clarify a mistake I made that was pointed out to me by Sirens & Muses. In my last chapter, Kratos tells Yuan his name twice. Whatever. I'm too lazy to change it now, so just in case you care, I'M SORRY. Review please!**

**Disclaimer: Tales of Symphonia belongs to Namco. Not me.**

* * *

"Mommy, watch me!"

_Who was that?_

"I'm gonna do a handstand!"

_A little girl?_

"Mr. Yuan, are you watching? Are you?"

_Yuan…Yuan!_

Kratos opened his eyes to hear a soft thump.

"Almost, honey." He recognized that voice. The woman from Heimdall.

"You're awake." He looked across to see Yuan, sitting cross-legged on a bed next to his. Most of his wounds had been healed, except for the one made by the arrow in his chest. It had been bandaged up.

He saw Kratos looking at his wounds. "Magic arrow. It didn't do much good to heal it with magic."

"Where am I?" Kratos sat up. He noticed that he'd been healed, too, for the most part. His broken leg was wrapped up in a splint, but it was certainly not nearly as bad as it had been originally.

"Latheon Gorge." He looked over. The woman was sitting on the floor, next to the little girl. He struggled to recall her name.

"Zoe?" he asked finally. She nodded. She had hazel eyes that were hidden behind black-rimmed glasses and lavender hair that was tied back. Kratos noticed that she had all the physical appearances of being an elf.

"Hi!" The little girl jumped up onto his bed. "My name's Lacey, what's yours?"

Kratos blinked, not quite believing what he was seeing. Lacey had long black hair that hung down in braids and sky blue eyes. He could've sworn it was his mother as a child.

"You look like the boy in Daddy's picture!" Lacey ran out of the room. Before Zoe could say anything, her daughter was back, carrying a framed picture. "See?"

Kratos looked at the picture. It showed Kratos when he was nine years old. His mother was kneeling next to him, hugging him and kissing his cheek. Kratos was laughing, holding up a fish he'd just caught. He remembered when it had been taken.

Before the war had really impacted Palmacosta, the city had been open to tourists from Tethe'alla. His mother had taken him there for his ninth birthday, to fish on a real boat. The next year, Palmacosta had been overrun with Tethe'allan soldiers, therefore making it a dangerous place to visit.

"Your husband's name," he whispered, still staring at the picture, "is Benjamin?"

"I knew it." Zoe stood up and kneeled beside Kratos' bed. "I knew you looked familiar. You're Kratos."

Yuan cleared his throat. "I'm missing something."

Kratos sighed. He told his story once again, watching as Yuan and Zoe listened carefully and Lacey began to absentmindedly play. When he finished, he sighed.

"What are the chances that Benjamin will tell me my-_our_-father's real name?"

"Call me Ben," a voice said from the doorway. "And I'd say not good."

Kratos looked up. Standing there, leaning against the doorway, was Benjamin.

He looked much different from the way Kratos remembered him from his childhood. He seemed not just shorter, but smaller in general. His hair had grown longer and seemed to lose some of its luster. And, of course, the bandages.

The left half of his face and both eyes was bandaged tightly. Long sleeves covered his arms, but when he looked carefully, Kratos saw that his left hand, the one that held his cane, was bandaged, too.

Lacey jumped off the bed. "Daddy, you're home!" she squealed, leaping at him. He caught her with his right arm and lifted her up.

"Hi, love," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

Zoe seemed to know that he wanted to speak to Kratos alone. She took Lacey from Ben. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go play."

"Okay," Lacey said. She waved to Kratos and Yuan. "Bye!"

Ben went to shut the door behind him. Yuan got up.

"I can leave, if you want to speak in private."

"No," Ben said. "You don't have to. You're involved in this, too, now."

Yuan sat back down. Kratos watched as Ben began to undress.

"Do you two have strong stomachs?" They both nodded. For a few seconds, Ben just stood there, then he spoke again. "You'll have to speak up, my eyesight's not what it used to be."

"Are you…blind?" Kratos asked.

"As a bat. But I've learned to function without my sight." Ben smiled, still taking his clothes off. "You know, I've never even seen Zoe or Lacey."

"What?" Yuan said incredulously. "You don't know what they look like at all? Not even your wife?"

Ben didn't say anything. Kratos spoke up.

"Lacey looks like Mom."

There was no response to the statement, not that Kratos had expected one. He'd more said it for his own benefit, as if to clarify that the little girl was really his niece.

Ben had stripped to his underwear. They could see now why he hadn't let Lacey stay in the room. The bandages covered his left arm, left leg, and burn scars could be seen across the left half of his torso.

"I didn't want my daughter to see this." He began to unwrap the bandages, starting at his feet.

"Lacey is a half-elf, isn't she?" Yuan asked.

"Yes. That's part of the reason we don't live in Heimdall," he said. "Too much bad blood towards half-elves. My daughter doesn't deserve the hatred of the outside world."

"What's the other part of the reason?" Kratos asked.

"I'm not well-liked in Heimdall," Ben mused.

"I've heard about you," Yuan said suddenly. "After traveling around for a couple years, I hear things. A lot of people think you betrayed the human race."

"They may see it that way, but the elves see it much worse." He gave a twisted smile. "Quite a number of them think I'm a traitor who'll sell them out at any chance. They don't think I can just leave my race behind. And of course, this little rampage, courtesy of the Tethe'allan army, hasn't done anything for my popularity."

By now, Ben had finished unwrapping his bandages. He stood in front of them, stripped to his underwear, showing them his scars.

The flesh of his left arm and leg had been charred. His torso hadn't been burned as badly as his limbs. And, finally, his face had been scorched. His left cheek was just muscle, bone, and some burnt skin. His neck had almost no skin left. His eyes sockets had scarred over, but Kratos was sure they had been intentionally burned.

"My god," Yuan whispered.

"What happened?" Kratos asked.

"Boys," Ben answered, "let me tell you a story."


	7. Benjamin's Story

**Warning! Angsty romantic chapter ahead! This is told from Ben's POV, with only a few references to Kratos. Also, a math lesson.**

**Ben was 16 when he saved the people of Heimdall the first time and when Kratos was born. Kratos is 14 in this chapter, which makes Ben about 30.**

**Okay, just wanted to clear it up, because it took me about twenty minutes to realize I had made a horrible plot error with the ages. But I fixed it, and you will never know what it was. Review, please!**

**Disclaimer: Tales of Symphonia belongs to Namco, not me.**

* * *

Ben was sitting on a bench, watching the people pass by. Meltokio had always been home to extravagant people. A woman walked by wearing a purple and gold dress and gaudy jewelry to match. He was kind of glad his father had never forced him to join the masses in showing off their wealth. Right now, for example, all he wore was a navy blue shirt and dark pants.

He turned his head upward, staring at the clouds. He'd never really understood the appeal of finding shapes in clouds. They were just puffy white things floating above. He sighed.

It was only a matter of time, Ben knew. Sooner or later, his secret would be found out. Sometimes, he wondered if his father already knew that he was the 'inside man' for the rebel group, even after all these years. The one who warned the Heimdall villagers of their impending terror. If he knew his father, there was going to be hell to pay for what he'd done.

He chuckled out loud. Of course, his father would probably have spent time plotting some punishment fitting enough for a son who'd betrayed his country, race, and family. The man was a cruel, dramatic bastard.

And then there was his brother. _Kratos,_ he mentally corrected himself. He'd have to get used to that name; he had a feeling he'd be hearing it a lot in the future. It'd been how long since Lacey's death? Two years, just about? Ben sighed again. He'd checked Folia and Flanoir, and Kratos could not be found. There was no way a twelve year old kid-now a fourteen year old kid-could just disappear like that.

Well, there was one way…

Ben shook his head, as if to shake those thoughts away. As disturbing as the thought was, he could see his heartless father murdering his own son, if only to eliminate the only tie he had left to his past. He pulled out the picture he kept folded in his pocket. Sometimes, he'd talk to it and pretend he was speaking to his baby brother.

"Ah, buddy," he said to it, "I really wish you'd give me a clue, a sign, anything."

"Benjamin!" Ben groaned. He really hated being called by his full name. It sounded too…formal. He tucked the picture back into his pocket and turned. Running towards him was Andrew Bailey. He groaned again. If there was one person in this world that he'd like to bury alive, it was Andrew Bailey. A traitor, a spoiled Daddy' s boy, and an all around racist scumbag. He had actually trusted him. They all had. For reasons unknown to Ben, Andrew had sold out the entire rebel group, except for him. The result had been the death or imprisonment of many of Ben's comrades.

"What do you want?" he asked, making no attempt at friendliness.

"You've been summoned," Andrew said, panting slightly. "My father's signed off on the plan to attack Heimdall again." He grinned. "Isn't that great?"

Ben stared at him. Maybe he didn't realize it was actually Ben who'd worked in the group. Maybe he was just incredibly stupid. Whatever the reason, Ben shrugged.

"Fantastic. Let me call up a parade. Just…go away and I'll get the details tomorrow."

"No, you don't understand," Andrew said eagerly. "It was a split second decision. The attack is happening _tonight._"

Ben sat up straight. Tonight…he had no time to prepare. No time to call upon the few souls in the world who'd help the elves. No time to think up an escape plan.

He looked up at Andrew. "Why is this happening so fast?"

"Father thinks they might be forming a militia. He wants them gone."

For a few seconds, Ben considered his options. It didn't take long to decide on his plan of action, considering the number of choices.

"Sorry, Andrew, ol' buddy," he said, standing up.

"About what?" Andrew asked, a look of confusion dawning on his face.

"Actually, I'm not really sorry." Ben gripped the back of his head by his purple hair and smashed his face into the back of the bench.

"Ugh!" Andrew's nose was streaming blood. Ben grabbed him by the collar and punched him. With a gasp of pain, the other man was knocked to the ground. He didn't get up. Ben checked his pulse.

"Pity," he said to himself. "You're not dead. Oh, well, no time to change that!" He ran off, out of town. By the time Andrew came to, with any luck, he'd be in Heimdall.

* * *

It'd been quite a while since he'd been down to the Cave. It wasn't far from Meltokio, just south of it. It had been the group's hideout when they'd been active. Inside was an invention, a totally new idea, an unnamed vehicle. A metal bird, he'd remembered Vidal calling it. He laughed a little bit at that memory. She'd been afraid to ride it.

It took him a few minutes, but he managed to get it running again. It looked safe enough to ride. Ben tried to recall the controls, before giving up and deciding to wing it. He raced through the cool evening air, towards Heimdall.

With some difficulty, he managed to land next to the entrance to the village. Heimdall seemed as normal as ever, not a soldier in sight. He glanced around the town, searching for some sign that something had happened, but it appeared he'd beaten the army there. He ran through the village, much to the curiosity of the people. They kept staring, even skirting away from him as he sprinted to the Elder's house.

"Elder?" He opened the door, revealing the old man sitting at a table.

"Excuse me, who are you?" the Elder asked.

"Do you remember me? I'm Ben."

Recognition dawned in the man's eyes. "You helped us escape Tethe'alla, so many years ago. You've certainly grown."

"Listen to me," Ben said, rushing through his explanation of the upcoming attack. The Elder listened patiently, worry taking over his face.

"We must evacuate immediately," he said when Ben was finished.

They started to hastily round up and usher out the villagers. They crowded together, away from Heimdall, hiding in the forest. Ben went to the Elder.

"I think that' s everyone," he said, "But I'll check to make sure."

Ben ran back through the village one more time, calling out for any stragglers. _Funny, _he thought. _You'd think the army would have gotten here by now._

He decided to check the Ymir Forest, the entrance to Heimdall. Perhaps it was an ambush set up outside, anticipating this and waiting for the villagers to return.

Nothing. This bothered him a bit. Something should be happening. Suddenly, there was the smell of smoke in the air. He turned around to see one of the houses on fire.

_What the hell?_

A pair of hands gripped his shoulders tightly and pushed him forward, into the blaze.

Ben had a split second to think before he tumbled into the flames. He managed to slide out with no damage other than a singed shirt. Breathing heavily, he looked around and saw, directly in front of him, his own father.

It clicked. Andrew's tip about an attack, pretending his secret was safe, his father's ignorance…it all been fake. A ploy, to lure him to coming here to finally face his father's wrath.

"So," the older man said, smiling a bizarre, almost laughing smile, "You fell for it. I can't believe that. A smart boy like you, falling for such an obvious trap."

"Why?" Ben whispered. He may as well die with answers. "You did all this, just to kill me?"

"Kill you?" he chuckled. "I'm not going to kill you, merely…teach you a lesson."

"On what?"

"Loyalty. What it means to be human."

Ben took a deep breath. "You aren't human. You're a cold, heartless, insane monster whose prejudice and god complex causes you to murder innocent people!"

His father just laughed. "If only you'd understand…don't you see?" He gestured all around him. "They're a threat. Magic, technology, the legacy and life spans to use them against us. They threaten our rule."

"They live isolated from the humans, in their own society, without the technology you claim they will use against us!"

"Enough! You have to face judgement for your sins!"

The man pulled his bow and an arrow out and took aim. Ben dodged the arrow, but fell backwards and slid to the ground. His father stood above him, another arrow aimed at him. Ben closed his eyes. Suddenly, his father's hands gripped him by the throat.

"Ugh!" he choked out. "Stop…this…"

The older man tossed him into the burning house. He landed with a thump on the floor. He stood up and faced his father, who shot another arrow at him. This time, it struck its mark.

"Ah!" Ben stared at his stomach, watching as blood dripped from the wound. "D-damn…"

He hastily tried a healing spell, but his father was too quick. He felt another arrow plunge into his thigh. He tried to crawl to the door, but couldn't reach it in time for his father to reach him.

He'd pulled a piece of burning wood off from the doorframe, holding it like a torch above his son. Ben closed his eyes, knowing what he was going to do…

The wood struck his left arm and its flames licked his flesh. He screamed as he watched his arm engulfed in fire. He didn't notice the torch come down a second time, this time on his left leg.

He screamed on again, closing his eyes. He could hear his father laughing, until another sound came.

"Spread!" The elves were coming back, to stop the fire that was destroying their town. His father growled as water hit the house they were in. Cool water rushed over them, dousing the fire. Ben sighed and opened his eyes. His father stood above him, the torch still in hand.

"You're punishment," he whispered as he brought the flames down one last time, onto Ben's face.

He shut his eyes tightly and screamed as the fire swept over him. He couldn't breath, the pain was too much…

He passed out.

* * *

Ben groaned. Someone was patting his leg with something wet. For some reason, he felt kind of…numb. He opened his eyes. And saw nothing.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked, panicked. He felt a cool hand touch his face.

"Good to see you're awake," a female voice said.

"I-I can't see!" He tried to sit up, but the woman pushed him back down.

"You were hurt in the fire," she told him. "You have third degree burns all over your left body, and your face."

"My…face? Am I…blind?"

The woman hesitated before speaking again. "I cast a healing spell, so there won't be much pain. But I doubt some of your skin will ever grow back, or that you'll ever gain full function of your arm or leg."

"And my sight?" he asked quietly, although her reluctance to answer seemed an answer in itself. "I'm blind, aren't I?"

"…Yes."

Ben didn't say anything. The woman continued to dab him with something wet. She cleared her throat. "I'm Zoe, by the way."

He didn't answer her. "I'm a nurse from Heimdall. I found you, and took you back to the elder's house."

Silence. "You're lucky to be alive, you know."

"Lucky," he said bitterly. "I can't see, can't walk-"

"I never said that. It'll just take time. You'll probably have to use a cane-"

"A cripple! Wonderful."

At first, Zoe didn't answer him. Finally, he felt a wet thing fall across his face. "Lose the attitude. You're upset because of your sight? Tell me, is complaining about it going to change it?"

He didn't answer her. She picked the wet thing off his face and sighed. "Sorry. It's just been one hell of a day."

"Are there many people hurt?" Ben asked suddenly.

"No, but I've just found out that my home, along with many others, burned down. The place you were found was where I used to live. And on top of that, my sister ran off into the woods."

"How old is your sister?" he asked.

"Fifteen. She was terrified, so she ran off. My father went to find her."

Her tone was offsetting. Ben couldn't quite place it, but something seemed…strange about how she spoke of her father and sister. "Did you live with them?" he asked.

Now it was Zoe's turn to remain silent. Ben didn't press the question; he got the feeling he'd hear the story at some point.

Zoe began to dab him with the wet thing again. "What is that?"

"It's alcohol. It'll prevent infection," she answered, sounding a bit relieved that he'd let the subject of her family drop. "I'm almost done with it. I'll wrap the burnt parts up in bandages next."

"Zoe? Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course," she answered smoothly. "What is it?"

"Can you…tell me what you look like?"

For a moment, there was stunned silence. "Okay," she said finally. "I guess I can. I'm about five foot two, I have purple hair, glasses, um, greenish-brown eyes…"

"Hazel," Ben corrected. "They're called hazel."

"Oh, look at the blind man," Zoe teased. "Telling _me _what color my eyes are."

At first, Ben felt a little offended. But he found that it was hard to be angry at the woman nursing his wounds and trying to be friendly to him.

"What about your body?" he asked.

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Well, I can't see you," he said. "Are you fat? Skinny? Curvy? What?"

"I won't even dignify that with an answer."

"So, fat?"

He felt a stinging on his leg where she was applying the bandages. "Ah!" he yelped. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," she said. "Now, say that again."

"Say what again?"

"Exactly."

Ben heard a chuckle. "My," a voice said. He recognized it as the Elder. "You two sound like an old married couple."

"Elder!" Ben sat up again, and was again shoved back into bed by his nurse. "Is everyone safe?"

"Yes, thanks to you." The Elder hesitated. "Ben, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What do you plan to do now? You cannot go back to your father."

Ben didn't answer. The Elder hastily said, "Of course, you don't have to make a decision at once, but your immediate situation needs to be established."

"How is Heimdall?"

"Not good," he admitted. "No one was hurt, a few people are missing, and the town is in ruins."

"So, I can't stay here, huh?"

The Elder hesitated again. "That's not why I wouldn't advise it."

Ben heard Zoe slam something down and stomp out of the room. "What's her problem?" he asked.

"Zoe's parents disowned her because of her admiration of the group that saved us years ago. They're proud, much too proud to accept being saved by humans. As are many of the other elves." The Elder sighed.

"They don't agree with what I did?"

"It's simply their pride. They won't appreciate a human, the filthy being they loathe, saving them and living among them. They'll never fully trust you."

Ben didn't say anything. The Elder patted his good arm, leaving the room silently. For a few seconds, it was quiet; then he heard quiet, soft sobs.

"Zoe?" he called. No answer. He managed to pull himself up and put his hand on the wall. Being very careful, he felt his way out of the room, barely managing to stay upright. "Zoe?" he called again. He heard the sobs getting louder, closer. He felt his way through the hall, waiting for an answer. "Zoe?"

"Ben, no!" He felt the ground underneath him disappear with his step. A hand grabbed his good shoulder and yanked him backwards, where he fell on top of something soft and warm.

"You idiot!" Zoe said angrily. "You almost took a tumble down the stairs! Get back to bed!"

He tried to disentangle himself from her, but found it hard to do without sight and with a maimed body. His hand grabbed for what he thought was the floor, but was much too soft and round…

"Get your hand off that!" He felt a slap across the unburned side of his face. "That's a-a delicate part of my body!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

After Ben and Zoe managed to stand up, she put his arm over her shoulder and helped him back into bed.

"So," he said, "why were you crying, anyway?"

"I just…I can't believe my family. They're just so…prejudiced," she snorted. "I shouldn't annoy you with my problems."

Ben suddenly realized he wasn't wearing his clothes. "Hey, my clothes! Where are they?"

"We washed them. Are you looking for the picture?" Zoe took his good hand in hers and placed the picture in his hand. He sighed.

"Thanks. It may not do any good to a blind man, but it's important to me." He ran his thumb over the worn photo.

"Who are they?"

"My brother," he answered. "And my…mother. We were separated a long time ago. I've never met my brother. I doubt he even knows I exist."

He suddenly felt Zoe's arms wrap around him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I understand."

Ben put his good arm over her shoulder and let her lean her head against his bare chest. The pair lay there, in silence, until they fell asleep.

* * *

"We need a house," Ben said. "A good house, a safe house. Somewhere we can be happy."

"This is our house?" Zoe asked, confused.

"The Elder owns the house up here. He offered it to me a year and a half ago, when we first left Heimdall together. I told him that we were going to travel for a little while first, and he gave me the key. He said, 'any time you need it.' Well, we need it now."

"Ben," she said softly. "Do you really think it'll be better than Heimdall?"

"Much better."

Zoe smiled. "I'm going to go in. Lacey needs to be put down for a nap." She rubbed the baby girl's back, holding her head against her shoulder. "Be careful out here by yourself. Don't fall off the cliff."

Ben laughed. "I know what I'm doing. I'm used to this now." He kissed both Lacey and Zoe's foreheads. "I'll be along in a minute."

As his wife and daughter went into their new home, Ben stood out and leaned against the fence. A warm breeze blew across his face, something he'd taken for granted before. He couldn't help but remember the last thing he'd really thought about before he'd lost his sight: the clouds, and how he'd never understood staring at them. It seemed kind of ironic, he realized, that the memory of something so simple should mean so much to him now.


End file.
